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“What is it you want, Dany? What do you want? You want the moon? Just say the word and I’ll throw a lasso around it and pull it down. Hey, that’s a pretty good idea. I’ll give you the moon, Dany.”
She blushed and blinked innocently up at him. “I’ll take it. And then what?”
“Well, then you could swallow it and it’ll all dissolve, see? And the moonbeams will shoot out of your fingers and toes, and then the ends of your pretty hair,” Jon Snow bent at the knees, tickling her fishtail braid for a moment. “Am I talking too much?”
Dany giggled girlishly, covering her mouth in embarrassment, and scampered towards her mother’s front door. Suddenly she tripped on the overly large robe she was wearing; in her haste to preserve her modesty, Dany tumbled behind a rosebush. Through the leafy branches, she watched Jon swiveling around in search of her, having thankfully not seen her little mishap.
“Daenerys…” he whistled comically, as if summoning a dog. “I give up. Where are you?”
He paused, having finally spotted the discarded robe. Dany pursed her lips to see a wily smile cut across his handsome, bearded face.
“Over here!” she rustled the branches to reveal her hiding place.
Jon moved to throw the robe over the short bush. “Wait a minute. What am I doing? This is interesting.”
If only she could stamp her feet. “Please give me my robe.”
“A man doesn't get in a situation like this every day.”
Quite impatient now, she squirmed in her crouched position. “I’d like to have my robe. Ouch!”
Dany had caught the skin of her arm on a thorn.
“I've heard about things like this, but I’ve never—”
She stepped on his words to chastise him. “Shame on you. I'm going to tell your mother about this.”
“Lady Lyanna is much too far away to do you much good, Dany.”
“I’m going to scream!”
“Okay, I’ll make a deal with you: will you go out with me on Friday night?”
Daenerys squealed, both distressed and exhilarated in equal measure. “Of course, Jon Snow. Now please hand me my robe.”
🎅🏻🎄🎁
Jon stopped by the railing at the center of the bridge. Large flakes were falling hard now: the water below was dotted with floating ice, and he watched as it passed under the bridge. Desperate for something, Jon tried to make up his mind one way or another. Millions of thoughts were running through his brain and he could not pin one down. Leaning over for a second, he gazed at the white-capped waves, fascinated. Suddenly, what appeared to be a body hurtled past him and landed in the churning water with a loud splash. Jon looked down, horrified, hands clenching on the metal railing.
“Help! HELP!”
Bewildered, Jon immediately took off his coat and dove over the railing. Coming up through the water’s surface, he saw a grey-bearded man with big brown eyes flailing about in the current.
“Help!”
Treading in place, Jon grabbed hold of him and started swimming for shore. Once on dry land, he interrogated the poor old man, who he saw was wearing garb from at least three hundred years ago. That was a bit odd.
“How’d you happen to fall in? Where did you even come from?”
Squeezing the water from the tail of his fraying coat, he answered. “I didn’t fall in. I jumped in to save you.”
Jon screwed up his face, surprised to hear this. “You what? You jumped in to save me?”
“Well, I did save you, didn’t I? You didn’t go through with it!”
Jon did not answer either of those questions, shifting in his soaked shoes, uncomfortable. “Where exactly did you come from?”
“Heaven,” he replied matter-of-factly. “I had to act quickly; that's why I jumped in. I knew if I were drowning you’d try to save me. And you did, Jon Snow.”
Jon casually looked at the strange, scruffy, smirking man a second time. “Very funny.”
As he started the climb up the embankment, he turned back around. “How do you know my name?”
“Oh, I know all about you. I’ve been watching you for a long time, Jon.”
“Who are you, mister? I’ve never seen you before,” Jon removed his vest and shook it out.
“Davos Seaworth, AS2.”
“What’s that mean?”
Davos kissed his teeth and puffed out his broad chest with pride. “Angel, Second Class.”
Jon massaged his aching forehead, in an attempt to clear his whirring mind. When he looked up, Davos was standing right beside him.
“Why’d you want to save me?”
“That’s why I was sent down. I’m your guardian angel.”
⭐️⛄️🔔
Bowen Marsh, the bank examiner, stepped through the door with the sheriff, red-faced from the cold. “Mister Snow, there is a deficit!”
He couldn’t care less. “I know! Eight thousand dollars!”
Sheriff Thorne reached into his deep pocket and pulled out a folded single piece of paper. “Snow, I’ve got a little slip here.”
Laughing affably, Jon threw up his hands and grinned. “I’ll bet it’s a warrant for my arrest. Isn't it wonderful? I’m going to jail! Merry Christmas!”
Thorne and Marsh stared back at him, slack-jawed.
“Where’s Dany? Dany!”
He ran into the kitchen, swinging around like a madman. Chest filling with warmth, he touched the peeling wallpaper and chipped woodwork.
“Oh, look at this wonderful old drafty house!” he rushed back into the hall, where the two frowning men were still stationed. “Have you seen my wife? Dany!”
A commotion burst out from the top of the rickety stairs, three pairs of little feet thundering from the rooms on the second floor. He had never been so happy to hear the stampede of rowdy children in his life.
“Merry Christmas, Papa!”
Eddard, Jaehaerys, and Daeron waved down at him, wide smiles on their beautiful, perfect faces.
“Boys!”
Jon started running up the stairs, the knob on the bannister coming off in his hand. Kissing it lovingly, he put it right back and continued in the direction of his sons.
“Ned, I could eat you up!” he embraced the oldest, ruffling his dark curls. “Jae, Daeron, get in here!”
He held each of them for a long time, trying to memorize everything: their smell, their hair, their eyes. Their mother’s eyes .
“Where’s muna ?”
Jaehaerys shrugged absently. “She went looking for you with Uncle Benjen.”
At that, Rhae-Rhae came running out of her bedroom carrying a stuffed animal, nose pink from tissues. Without a word, Jon crushed her into his chest protectively.
“Papa!”
Tears welling, he cradled her bony chin in both hands. “Rhaella. Rhae-Rhae. My little dragon! How do you feel?”
She crossed her arms defiantly. “I’m all better!”
“ Muna says her temperature is back to normal,” Daeron piped up, silver-gold curls bouncing as he balanced on his tiptoes.
Jon chuckled, pinching his cheek and then doing the same to Rhae-Rhae. The door blew open soon after, revealing a breathless Daenerys Targaryen. She was absolutely radiant, snowflakes melting in her glowing, platinum hair and amethyst irises shining. The bank examiner and sheriff looked on with open mouths.
“Hello,” she nodded once at them before spotting her husband at the top of the stairs with the children. “ Jon ! Darling!”
Dany raced into his arms and clung to him fiercely, leaving a few kisses on the side of his head. He squeezed her around the shoulders as if she might dissolve; he would never let her go. With a muffled shout, Daeron jumped on Jon’s back as he pulled away from their mother.
“Jon, where have you been?”
Tears spilling from his eyes, he answered by pressing their mouths together and then began tracing her cheeks and jaw with his lips. Whispering in her ear, Jon said:
“You’re real, you’re real. You have no idea what’s happened to me.”
“You have no idea what’s happened—”
He stopped her with another kiss. Eyes twinkling, Daenerys grabbed his free hand and led their family down the stairs.
“Well, come on. They’re on their way.”
“Who’s on their way?”
Dany raised an eyebrow coyly as she pushed a table forward. She then positioned him and their children in front of the decorated Christmas tree, placing a sniffly Rhae-Rhae in his arms. Little Daeron slipped off his father’s back and moved to stand beside Jaehaerys and Ned like a gentleman.
“It’s a miracle, Jon Snow. It’s a miracle.”
The doorbell rang loudly twice and his wife ran towards the sound. A huge crowd of people pushed through the foyer and into the living area, led by a beaming Uncle Benjen. He was covered in a thin layer of snow, lugging a basket overflowing with cash. Benjen was accompanied by the local cab driver, Pyp, and possibly about twenty other Winterfell townspeople. Flushed with excitement, Benjen dumped the money onto the table.
“Isn’t it wonderful?” he cuffed his nephew on the elbow.
Dany stood next to Jon, watching his expression change as each person in attendance came up to the family and placed money on the pile, whether from their pockets, from shoe boxes, from wallets and purses, or even from old coffee pots. Pennies, dimes, quarters, bills—they were small amounts alone, but together, the amount was significant. His mother, Lyanna, pushed through the bedlam and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. Jon was speechless, bouncing Rhae-Rhae as he watched more people pour in.
“Daenerys did it, Jon! She did it!” Benjen wiped the tears tracking down his face. “She told a few people you were in trouble and they scattered all over town collecting money. Didn’t ask any questions, just said: ‘If that Jon Snow is in trouble, count on me.’”
Eddison Tollett appeared, digging in his pocket and grumbling all the while. “Miss Dany, Jon, how’s it going? I suppose I can spare a few dollars.”
Jeor Mormont added his own money to the growing pile; he was bundled tightly in a snowsuit, snowshoes hanging off his shoulder. “Here you are, Jon. Merry, merry Christmas.”
Pyp was attempting to start some kind of system in the twirling chaos. Instead, Samwell Tarly and his wife, Gilly, barged in bearing a mixing bowl between them, filled with cash. The cab driver stopped what he was doing to greet his friends:
“Pretty Gilly! Sam the Slayer! Merry Christmas! Step right up.”
Then elderly Mr. Aemon arrived with a large glass jar jammed full of bills and coins.
“Aemon!” Dany smiled brightly, embracing her uncle as she brought him over to Jon and the kids.
He winked, waving the jar for all to see. “For you, my boy. I wouldn’t have a roof over my head if it wasn’t for you.”
Missy Naath entered, elegant as always, and the crowd cleared for her approach towards the Snow family, most cheering to see her there. Dany’s best friend dug dramatically in her crocodile skin bag and pulled out a wad of cash. His wife gasped at the sight.
“I’ve been saving this money for a divorce. But that usually requires a husband first.”
The general area burst into peals of laughter and Missy wrapped her arms around Dany’s shoulders lovingly. Pyp grinned and shouted over the din:
“Quiet, everybody. Quiet! I have a telegram from Casterly Rock. ‘Tarly cables you need cash. Stop. Will advance up to twenty-five thousand dollars for my friend. Stop. Merry Christmas, Jon and Daenerys. Stop. From Tyrion Lannister.”
The crowd burst into deafening applause and shrieks of joy as Pyp dropped the message on top of the pile with a flourish. Jon could only stand there in disbelief. Sam emerged from the kitchen wielding a bottle of wine and glasses, while Jae plopped down at the piano. His second oldest son banged the keys to the tune of ‘We Wish You a Merry Christmas’, while the entire crowd joined in on singing. People continued stopping by the house as they crooned, to drop more money on the table. The bank examiner even made a small donation, followed by Sheriff Thorne sheepishly ripping the warrant for Jon’s arrest into tiny pieces. They left together, their tails between their legs.
Jae stopped playing abruptly when Arya parted the crowd, wearing her posh Naval uniform and medals. She was escorted inside by Deputy Grenn, both of whom were shaking an excessive amount of snow off their hats.
“Hello, brother.”
Jon was speechless. “Arya…”
She hugged her sister-in-law warmly. “I got here too late, Dany. Look at this spread!”
Arya gestured at the table, which was overflowing with money from their friends. Lyanna approached Arya then and wrapped her arm around her daughter’s waist.
“You flew all the way up here in a blizzard?” his mother demanded.
“As soon as I got Dany’s telegram, I hopped on a plane. Didn’t stop to overthink it for a moment.”
Lyanna beamed at this comment, while Jon chuckled through a steady stream of happy tears. With a knowing smirk, Pyp handed Arya a glass of wine. She flashed her toothy grin and announced:
“A toast to my big brother: the richest man in town!”
Amongst shouts and cheers of euphoria, Jaehaerys returned to the piano to play “Auld Lang Syne”. Once again, everyone else joined in loudly and Jon was stunned into silence. Still holding tightly onto Rhae-Rhae, he glanced briefly down at the pile of money. His eye caught on something at the top of the pile and he reached down to snag it up. It was a thick, old piece of folded parchment with the words:
“Remember: no man is a failure who has friends. Thanks for the wings. Love, Davos."
Daenerys nuzzled into his side, weaving her fingers into Rhae-Rhae’s silver-gold locks. “What's that, Jon?”
He exhaled in relief. “That’s a Christmas card from a very dear friend of mine.”
In the commotion, Jon and Rhae-Rhae were jostled into the decorated tree, causing a little silver bell to swing to and fro with a metallic tinkle. His daughter patted her father on the shoulder and exclaimed:
“Papa! Teacher says, ‘every time a bell rings, an angel gets his wings’!”
“Indeed, my love,” Jon murmured in reply and looked up at the ceiling with a smirk. “Attaboy, Davos.”
🥛🎄🍪